She is a farmer. She deserves the same rights, recognition, and dignity.
Across India, women perform the majority of agricultural labor — sowing, harvesting, tending livestock — yet the legal and economic architecture of farming was built as though they were not there. They constitute 42 percent of the agricultural workforce and carry out 70 percent of its tasks, yet only 12.8 percent hold land in their names, and without land, the gates to credit, insurance, and government support remain closed. Maharashtra's proposed Women Farmer Empowerment Bill of 2026 represents a rare attempt to reconcile this contradiction — to let the law finally see what the fields have always known.
- Women now form over 42% of India's farm workforce, yet the number of unpaid women agricultural workers has nearly doubled in eight years — invisibility is deepening, not receding.
- Without a land record, women cannot access crop insurance, PM-KISAN benefits, or bank loans — a single missing document cascades into total exclusion from the systems meant to protect farmers.
- Women earn 78 paise for every rupee men earn in agriculture, work up to 16 hours daily during harvest, and bear the sharpest losses from climate change — a 34% income drop per degree of warming in women-headed households.
- Maharashtra's proposed 2026 bill would grant legal farmer status to women without requiring land ownership, potentially unlocking credit, water rights, and institutional support for millions.
- Advocates warn that legislation alone cannot close the gap — women's names must enter land records, bank ledgers, and panchayat registers before any law can take root.
Ask someone to picture a farmer, and the image is almost always a man. Across India, that assumption has calcified into policy, law, and economic practice — even as women quietly became the backbone of the nation's agricultural economy. They perform around 70 percent of all farm tasks, account for 75 percent of crop production, and now make up more than 42 percent of the agricultural workforce, a figure that has nearly doubled since 2017. Yet only 12.8 percent of landholdings are registered in women's names, and nearly half of all women working in agriculture receive no wages at all.
The consequences of this gap are not abstract. Without a land record — the 7/12 extract that serves as a farmer's identity document — a woman cannot access crop insurance, apply for government schemes, or secure a bank loan. Of the 9.35 crore beneficiaries registered under PM-KISAN, fewer than a quarter are women. The wage gap compounds the exclusion: women agricultural labourers earn only 78 paise per rupee earned by men, often taking home barely ₹200 a day. Meanwhile, the technological modernisation of farming since Independence has focused almost entirely on mechanising men's tasks, leaving the labour-intensive work assigned to women — weeding, transplanting, cotton picking — untouched and unrecognised.
The human cost accumulates in hours and in health. Women combine agricultural and household work across 14 to 16 hours a day, labour that rarely enters any economic calculation. Climate change has sharpened the burden: for every degree Celsius of warming, the income of women-headed households falls by an estimated 34 percent. Research in Kerala's Palakkad district found women paddy farmers suffering skin diseases, heat stress, and waterborne illness, with little access to protective equipment or institutional support. When farmer suicides devastate households, it is women who absorb the aftermath — often managing farms alone while remaining legally invisible as farmers.
Maharashtra has offered a tentative answer. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has announced the Women Farmer Empowerment Bill, 2026, to be introduced in the monsoon legislative session. The bill would grant women independent legal recognition as farmers without requiring land ownership, and extend coverage to landless cultivators, tenant farmers, livestock keepers, and migrant workers. If enacted and enforced, it could mark a genuine turning point. But advocates are clear: the distance between legislation and lived reality remains vast. Women's names must enter land records, bank registers, and gram panchayat rolls before any law can transform daily life. The deeper shift required is a rejection of the assumption that women's agricultural labour is supplementary — a recognition, long overdue, that the woman working in the field is not helping a farmer. She is one.
Ask someone to picture a farmer, and the image that surfaces is almost always the same: a man, weathered by sun, standing in a field with a plough. The picture is so fixed in the collective imagination that it has become invisible—which is precisely the problem. Across India, millions of women work the land every single day. They sow seeds, pull weeds, harvest cotton, tend livestock, store grain. They do this work in the scorching heat, in monsoon mud, in freezing mornings. And yet they are called labourers, helpers, anything but what they are: farmers.
The numbers tell a story that should have demanded attention long ago. Nearly 80 percent of rural women are engaged in agriculture. They perform around 70 percent of all agricultural tasks. Their labour accounts for 75 percent of crop production, 79 percent of horticulture, and 95 percent of animal husbandry and fisheries. According to the Periodic Labour Force Survey from 2024, women now make up more than 42 percent of India's agricultural workforce—a figure that has nearly doubled since 2017, when it stood at just 24.8 percent. This is not a marginal shift. It is a transformation of the agricultural economy. And yet the legal and social structures that govern farming have barely moved.
The gap between labour and ownership is staggering. Only 12.8 percent of landholdings in India are registered in women's names. Nearly half of all women working in agriculture receive no payment whatsoever. Over the past eight years, the number of unpaid women workers in agriculture has surged from 2.36 crore to 5.91 crore—a near-doubling that reflects not progress but deepening invisibility. In Maharashtra, where 88.46 percent of rural women work in agriculture (the highest proportion in the country), more than 90 percent own no land at all. A survey by the Indian Council of Agricultural Research across nine states found that women perform nearly 75 percent of agricultural activities, yet hold less than 14 percent of the land. A decade has passed since the Agricultural Census of 2015–16 recorded women owning 13.87 percent of landholdings. The figure has barely budged.
Without land ownership comes a cascade of exclusion. No land record means no 7/12 extract—the document that unlocks access to government schemes. Without that extract, a woman cannot easily access crop insurance, cannot secure a bank loan, cannot reach many forms of government assistance. Of the 9.35 crore beneficiaries registered under PM-KISAN, only 2.15 crore are women. Banks demand a man's signature for loans. Insurance schemes require land certificates. Market information networks remain closed to those without resources or connections. Women are locked out at the very first gate. The wage gap compounds the injury. According to the Food and Agriculture Organization, women agricultural labourers earn only 78 paise for every rupee earned by men. In India, women agricultural workers often receive barely ₹200 per day—compensation that has not shifted despite decades of rhetoric about equality.
The work itself has been engineered to favour men. Technological innovation since Independence—tractors, irrigation systems, mechanisation—has focused almost entirely on reducing men's labour: ploughing, sowing, spraying. Little attention has been paid to the tasks assigned to women: weeding, transplanting, cotton picking, the labour-intensive work that machines have not been designed to replace. A.R. Vasavi, a social anthropologist from Karnataka, has documented this gendered division with precision. The result is that women's labour has been treated as if it does not exist, even as it sustains the nation's food supply.
The human cost is measured in hours and in health. Women spend an average of 14 hours each day combining agricultural work with household responsibilities. During harvest seasons, this rises to 16 hours. Much of this labour never appears in economic calculations. Globally, unpaid domestic labour performed by women and girls contributes an estimated $10.8 trillion to the economy, yet it receives neither wages nor recognition. Climate change has added another burden. Women-led farming households lose an estimated $37 billion annually due to heat stress and another $16 billion because of floods. For every one-degree Celsius increase in temperature, the income of women-headed households declines by 34 percent compared with male-headed households. Research among paddy farmers in Kerala's Palakkad district found that women face skin diseases, heat stress, and waterborne illnesses from prolonged exposure to harsh conditions. They lack access to protective technologies, insurance, and institutional support.
Soma K.P., founder of the Mahila Kisan Adhikar Manch, has pointed out a particular cruelty: even when men migrate to cities for work, ownership and decision-making power over agricultural land often remain with them. Women may single-handedly manage farms, but they are denied recognition as farmers. When crops fail or drought strikes, compensation is paid in the name of men who may no longer even live in the village. Widows who continue farming after their husbands' deaths frequently struggle to access government support. In households devastated by farmer suicides, women often shoulder the entire burden of survival.
Maharashtra has now offered a measure of hope. Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has announced that the Maharashtra Women Farmer Empowerment Bill, 2026, will be introduced during the monsoon session of the state legislature. The proposed legislation seeks to provide women with independent legal recognition as farmers and improve their access to credit, technology, markets, and government services. For the first time, women could obtain legal recognition as farmers even without possessing a 7/12 extract. Such recognition would improve their access to institutional credit, water rights, insurance, and government support. The bill is expected to cover landless women farmers, tenant farmers, agricultural labourers, livestock keepers, and migrant workers. If enacted effectively, it could represent a historic shift. Yet legislation alone will not be enough. The distance between laws and implementation remains wide. Women's names must find their place in land records, gram panchayats, banks, and agricultural offices. At the heart of the problem lies a persistent assumption—that women's labour is auxiliary rather than primary. This assumption must be rejected. The mother, sister, and wife who works in the fields is not merely helping a farmer. She is a farmer. She deserves the same rights, recognition, and dignity accorded to any male cultivator.
Citações Notáveis
Women contribute more than 81 percent of agricultural labour in Maharashtra, yet most policies remain male-centric and many welfare benefits are tied to land ownership.— Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis
Even when men migrate to cities for employment, ownership and decision-making powers over agricultural land often remain with them. Women may single-handedly manage farms, but they are still denied recognition as farmers.— Soma K.P., founder of the Mahila Kisan Adhikar Manch
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter so much whether women are called farmers or labourers? Isn't the work the same either way?
The name determines everything else. A labourer has no claim to land, no access to credit, no standing to negotiate with banks or government. A farmer is a legal category that opens doors. Without it, you're invisible to the systems that could help you.
But women are doing most of the work already. Why hasn't that translated into power?
Because the work is gendered. Men got tractors and irrigation systems designed to reduce their labour. Women got nothing. Their tasks—weeding, transplanting, harvesting—were left as they were, labour-intensive and undervalued. Technology was never meant to ease their burden.
The numbers show women's participation in farming has nearly doubled in a decade. That's dramatic. Why?
Men are leaving. They're migrating to cities for other work. Women stay behind and manage the farms. But the land is still registered in the men's names. So women do the work and the men hold the power, even from a distance.
What would the Maharashtra bill actually change?
It would let a woman be legally recognized as a farmer without owning land. That single shift opens access to credit, insurance, water rights, government schemes. For the first time, her work would have a legal name.
Is that enough?
It's a beginning. But laws don't enforce themselves. The real work is in the gram panchayats, the banks, the agricultural offices—getting women's names into the systems that actually distribute resources. That's where the distance between law and reality becomes clear.